


Thirst

by Khaelis



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 22:39:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12467532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khaelis/pseuds/Khaelis
Summary: A walk in the desert leads to unexpected troubles.





	Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> This is PWP in its purest form, with a sprinkle of aphodisiac powder thrown into the mix - you've been warned!
> 
> For those who follow it, I'm still working on Getting Through, don't worry!
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this story, please let me know what you think! :-)

* * *

 

 

The sun was reverberating against the thick blue sand that smothered the sound of their heavy steps. The millions of microscopic particles crunched under their feet as they painfully made their way towards the village he was quite certain was laying behind the dune that stood before them, and he knew from the way she kept darting her tongue out to lick at her dry lips and the way her breath was coming out of her mouth in short, laboured puffs that it was about time they got there.

 

He should have known better than to bring her on this planet. She had always told him that she hated heat, that too bright a sun made her eyes hurt and too hot an atmosphere made her dizzy. He had thought that a trek through the Whuol desert to see the Great Cliffs of Palavus III would have made the experience interesting enough for her to enjoy it and forget about the few drawbacks it entailed. But after more than two hours making their way across dunes and hills of sand under a thousand watt sun, he had to admit that the heat was starting to weigh on him too and that his eyes were starting to protest against the blinding reflections of the sunrays against the sand dusts.

 

The Doctor pulled on Rose’s hand, just as much as she was pulling on his just to use the momentum of his swinging arm and relieve some of the ache in her calves and thighs, just to use his strength to make the effort less intense. He couldn't quite believe that she was smiling despite her cracked lips, giggling despite her obvious shortness of breath, playfully shoving his shoulder with hers whenever she wobbled on her feet too much and ended up diverting her course. It would always amaze him that this tiny human could still find some fun in such a dreadful situation.

 

“Why so glum, Doctor?” she grinned, wiping a bead of sweat that was rolling down her temple. “I mean, this could be worse. At least there's no monster chasing after us, and the sun isn’t hot enough to make us combust.”

“Still could be better,” he mumbled under his breath, his fingers unconsciously going slack around hers. “Transdimensional pockets and I can’t even think about bringing some water.”

“We left in a rush, yeah?” she tried to reassure him with a weak pat on his forearm. “I was the impatient one, put the blame on me. Look, the village is right over there, I’m sure there’s plenty to drink. We’ll be fine, stop worrying about it.”

 

The Doctor simply nodded and kept going, their steps turning heavier and slower as they neared the top of the bright blue dune. It was only a minute later that they both proudly stood atop the hill of sand, and only a minute later that the Doctor growled loudly in frustration and Rose sighed in defeat.

 

“God have mercy,” she addressed a small prayer to the sky when her eyes landed on the one and only tent that made up an obviously deserted camp, which had probably counted a few dozen more not so long ago given the traces left in the otherwise smooth surface of the sand.

“Plenty to drink,” the Doctor muttered as he strode towards the tent and pulled one of the flaps open. “A whole oasis, Niagara chutes and Titicaca lake, oceans and seas to drink.”

 

He stepped into the rather large tent, unable to wipe the grimace of anger - that he most definitely felt against himself - from his face as he gauged his surroundings with a quick look. A simple, low table made of wood, a chair with leather cushioning, half a candle and a long feather dipped into an inkpot of dark red liquid. And…  

 

“Rose!” the Doctor called out as he picked up a leather flask that was about half-full given the sound the rippling water made as he turned it around in his hands. “I think I’ve found you a drink!”

“I’m not drinking that stuff until I’m sure it’s not poison,” she said as she joined him, remembering the time the Doctor had almost killed her when he’d offered a lethal cocktail all too vividly.

 

The Doctor sighed and flicked the cap of the flask open, then dipped his finger into it. He brought his finger, now coated in a liquid that seemed to be of an amberish colour given the small drop that pearled at his fingertip, to his mouth and gave it a long lick. He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth and let the substance roll down his throat.

 

“Not poison,” he smiled when his system didn’t react to the liquid. “Perfectly safe. And quite refreshing, I must say. Refreshing and tasteful. Very tasteful. And… Highly… Very highly… Oh, no, that’ bad.”

 

Rose lifted an eyebrow as the Doctor’s face slowly fell, to the point his mouth drew into a thin line and his eyes squinted tightly shut.

 

“What is it, Doctor?” she asked, a bit nervous and worried to watch him hold his breath and see his cheeks turn red with the effort to keep the air inside his lungs. “Are you okay?”

“For the love of Gods, don’t talk to me,” he breathed out, obviously struggling not to gulp down any more intake of air.

“Why? What has this thing done to you? Come on, Doctor, tell me what’s happening, you’re scaring me a bit here.”

“Just shush, will you,” the Doctor glared at her, then turned back on his feet to face the other end of the tent. “Can’t breathe in.”

“You could breathe just fine until now. Is it the drink? Please, tell me it actually wasn’t poison.”

“It’s not poison, it’s an aphrodisiac!” the Doctor eventually yelled, throwing his arms into the air - and Rose definitely heard the sharp breath he took in.

 

Rose stared with wide eyes as the Doctor turned again to face her, and she noticed how his deep chocolate brown irises seemed to have been swallowed by the black of his pupils. There was something predatory about his stance, how he seemed to be prancing, ready to jump on her as if she were a defenseless prey. He darted his tongue out and licked his lips thoroughly, a grin making the corner of his mouth quiver.

 

“A _very_ potent aphrodisiac,” he said, voice rumbling low in his throat, fingers clenching and unclenching on his sides. “And you, Rose Tyler. You’re sweating off so much pheromones in the air. Tasty. So tasty. Always loved your taste, love. And your smell. And how you look. So sexy. So beautiful.”

“Um, thanks, but…”

“I want to fuck you Rose” he stated as he shrugged his coat off his shoulders. “Properly fuck you. I’ve always been gentle with you. Time to go up a notch or two, don’t you think? I love making love to you. I’m sure I’d love fucking you, too. Make you mine. I want to possess you. And I want you to possess me.”

“Doctor, that’s not you talking,” Rose tried to reason him, struggling not to take glances at the prominent bulge in his trousers she could see in her peripheral vision.

“This has never been more me,” he whispered as he took a few steps towards her - and she found it impossible to move away from him, because she was either scared or aroused, she couldn’t tell. “This is a deep desire. So deep and so powerful. You created it, love. You made me want this.”

“Doctor, this aphrodisiac…”

“Simple inhibition,” he interrupted, finally close enough to dig his long fingers into the soft skin of her hips revealed by the tank top that was conveniently riding up her sides. “Can’t control my arousal right now. But trust me, if it weren’t for my superior Time Lord biology, my cock would beg for your attention all the time. I’d live with a perpetual hard-on. And I’d have fucked you in each room and against every wall of the Tardis by now. I think about it all the time.”

 

Rose knew she shouldn't, that this was wrong, that it was neither the time nor the place, but she still shivered deep down to her bones when the Doctor thrust his hips forward and trapped his erection against her hipbone.

 

“I’ve always wanted this, Rose,” he growled, his deep voice echoing through his ribcage. “I always long to be close to you. Long to be _inside_ you. Make one with you.”

 

Rose gasped when one of his hand flew to her neck before she could stop him, and for a second she was scared he’d lost control so much he wanted to dominate her in a violent fashion. But he simply unwrapped her keffieh from around her neck, gently, despite the obvious tension in his muscles that made his movements rather mechanic and uncoordinated.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, love,” he said with a frown - and Rose noticed just how much effort that was taking him. “Tie my hands before I can’t stop myself anymore. Tie my hands and leave me here. Go back to the Tardis. I’ll wait until my body's evacuated the chemicals.”

 

The Doctor bit into his lower lip as Rose took the keffiyeh from his hand and jumped when his skin met hers for just a fraction of a second - enough to send jolts of electricity through his whole body and make his arousal even more energy-consuming.

 

“You’ll have to be quick,” he groaned, sticking his wrists together and offering them to her. “Your skin… It’s too… Hot and soft and… So many pheromones oozing from it.”

 

That last sentence was accompanied by a weak wail and another thrust of his hips, and even though he was doing his very best to control these animalistic surges, it was becoming increasingly harder to stop himself from acting like a sex-craving ape.

 

His eyes widened in terror when Rose let the keffiyeh fall at their feet.

 

“Rose, that’s not...”

“I want you to have me,” she whispered, brushing her thumb against his lower lip to soothe the skin that was about to break under his teeth. “Promise me that it’s what _you_ want, and have me. Take what you need from me.”

 

Rose knew from the depth of his eyes that this still was her Doctor - a Doctor who was speaking the truth, a Doctor who really wanted this. She trusted him, she trusted his judgment, and if he was saying that this was just a very uninhibited self motivated by his deepest desires, then she was more than willing to let him act upon them. And she had to admit, the bits of coarse language he never usually used, the powerful aura that shone from his tensed muscles and the lust that dripped from his voice and stare could very well be the only aphrodisiac she needed herself.

 

“Rose,” the Doctor started to beg in a drawling moan. “Please, there’s nothing right… Ah, about this.”

“Do you want me?” she purred, trailing a finger down his heaving chest.

“Yes, fuck yes,” he panted - and he squeezed his eyes shut when her knuckles brushed over the erection tenting his trousers. “No, I mean…  Oh, shit Rose, stop doing that, I’m going to come in my pants.”

 

But she didn’t stop. She knew that look on his face - the wild fluttering of his eyelids, the dimple that was growing more prominent as he bit the inside of his cheek, the tight curl of his fingers on her hips. And his cock that twitched like she'd never felt before in the palm of her hand. And the rutting of his hips as if he were desperate for more friction, thrusting against the only part of her she was willing to give.  All signs that he wasn’t lying. He _was_ about to come, and rather spectacularly.

 

Rose rubbed her thighs together and fought the urge to touch herself, so aroused and yet not enough to give in the temptation. She wanted to see what that aphrodisiac was capable of, if its effect would cease the moment he came or if it would keep him going for some time. Even if it did cease, she thought, she now knew what the Doctor wanted, what he’d been fantasizing about for a long time, and there was no way she could forget about it. His fantasies were hers as well, and she’d be damned if she allowed him to pretend he’d never said any of those things.

 

“That would be kinda hot,” she whispered with a tongue-touched grin, pressing the heel of her hand a bit harder against his erect cock. “Watching you come in your pants, I mean.”

“Fuck, you don’t want to play it like this with me right now,” he grunted, bracing himself with a firm grip on her hips.

“I very much do,” she smiled, now pressing her fingertips up and down his erection.

“Oh shit, Rose,” he gasped, his hips thrusting in tandem with the increasing speed of her movements. “No, you don’t know what, ah, what you’re doing.”

“I very much do,” she repeated with a wicked grin, caressing the shape of his tip with the pad of her thumb.

“Stop, before I… Fuck!”

 

The Doctor swatted her hands away with an unusual roughness and made a quick job of popping the button of his suit trousers off, tearing the offending fly apart, but he wasn't quick enough to reach into his pants and finish himself off - because he was obviously going through a pretty tough episode of torture, the pressure of her fingers being both exquisite and unnerving, just a breadth away of giving him the relief his tensed body was desperately looking for.

 

Rose had already dropped to her knees and caught his wrists before he could do anything about the overwhelming need to release all that sexual tension.

 

“Let me,” Rose said, loud enough to cover the pained whimpers that escaped his parted lips.

“Please,” he begged, voice straining almost as much as the tendons threatening to cut through the skin of his neck. “Oh, don’t...”

  


He was cut in the middle of his sentence when the sensation of her mouth and lips wrapping around his weeping cock made the few rational thoughts he had left blow up into a thousand pieces. In his haze, he didn’t realise that his fingers had immediately flown to clasp each side of her face, that her nails were now digging into the skin of his bum, that he was the one setting up the hard and fast pace of their combined movements. Somewhere in the back of his mind a quiet voice kept whispering that he might have been hurting her, but it was drowned by the growls, heavy and possessive, _mine_ , _mine_ , _mine_. All he could feel as he was chasing after his completion in a wild staccato rhythm was the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat at each thrust, her soft tongue pressing under his length, the wet heat wrapped around him, and the tight coil of arousal, growing tighter and tighter, the fire in his loins roaring ablaze, fueled by the incredible potency of the chemical.

 

All it took for him to finally feel the first flutters that were bound to lead to a spectacular orgasm was the loud moan Rose let out, moan that came when he tugged hard on her hair - and just for a second he worried that he might have hurt her, just a second before she moaned again around his cock. Encouragement or pain, he didn’t know what that moan was, but the vibrations of it around his length were the only thing missing in the equation to make the pent-up tension snap.

 

“Oh, fuck, oh fuck!” he rasped, tugging on her hair again as his hips came to a full stop and his cock twitched, fast and hard against her tongue as his seed spurted into her mouth. “Fuck, Rose, yes, yes, Gods!”

 

A shudder made his whole body tremble, a grunt seeped through his clenched teeth. His fingers didn’t let go of the strands of hair he was pulling on to keep her mouth on him. The tongue that worked under his still hard length as she swallowed was enough to set the cooling coals of his desire on fire again. More desire, even less power over what he was doing and what he was thinking. That was why he had tried to make Rose stop. Because now the only thing he could focus on were those pheromones hanging heavy in the air, making his nostrils flare and the animalistic instinct to claim her as his, only his, in every way he had ever thought about, even the darkest, become the only thing he could focus on - instinct that had been dormant until he’d tasted a single drop of that bloody aphrodisiac.

 

He shoved her away with a push on her shoulder and she fell back, sitting on her heels. He stared down at her, and suddenly she wasn’t beautiful anymore. She was a Goddess of lust looking back at him through thick eyelashes, her hand creeping up his thigh. The flimsy tank top didn’t cover much of her breasts, heaving with each laboured breath, a few pearls of sweat rolling down her skin to disappear in her impressive cleavage. Her full lips, red and swollen, half-opened in a quivering grin, an invitation to plunge his teeth into their flesh, conquer her mouth with his tongue, fuck it again with abandon. That last thought made him grunt and his fingers unconsciously wrapped around his erection to give it a few slow pumps, just to soothe its painful hardness.

 

“Not better?” her soft voice said - a question or a statement, his mind was too preoccupied with choosing in what way to take her to really care.

“Worse,” he growled as he shed his jacket and ripped his shirt open, suddenly much too hot despite his ability to adapt to temperatures. “I don’t bloody care how long it takes but I’m going to get my fill. Naked. Now.”

 

Rose gaped at him, watching him take off his chucks and socks, throwing the tattered shirt away along with his trousers and boxers. The threatening look he gave her when she didn’t move thwarted her a bit - it wasn’t the kind of look she was used to seeing on his face, especially not under such circumstances - but she also saw that he wasn’t really himself anymore. Well, it _was_ , but it seemed that his definition of inhibition also meant an outburst of angry passion and furious lust. Maybe that was why he had wanted her to leave him there. Maybe he really was going to hurt her, eventually. But she also saw just how desperate he was, how plagued by this unwanted desire he seemed to be, and she wanted to help him. Compensation for all the times he’d helped her, she thought. A sore body and a few bruises were a small price to pay for everything he’d ever done for her. And it was basically her fault he’d drank that aphrodisiac. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t enticed by any of this, by his tall and strong body standing before her, long fingers wrapped around his hard cock still glistening with her saliva. It might have been wrong, but she was loving this kind of wrong.

 

“Too slow,” he eventually grunted, bending down to get a hold of her tank top and force it up along her chest, her arms, until it was off and he could throw it behind him.

 

He didn't bother with her bra and he gave her thigh a quick and sharp slap that drew a moan from her lips, wordless order for her to stand up. Rose immediately complied and her breath got caught in her throat when his fingers went to the button on her denim skirt. His usual carefulness and precision had given way to a chaotic and hurried fumbling, his nails scratching the skin above her waistline and his knuckles pressing hard into the soft skin of her lower abdomen. She almost protested, but within seconds he had the skirt and the pale pink knickers under it down her legs.

 

“Sorry,” he mumbled through his teeth - and Rose somehow knew that this was more a reflex of his normal self resurfacing rather than a heartfelt apology.

“S’okay,” she still tried to reassure him, trying to soothe the tension making his whole body buzz with a gentle rub on his arms.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he stated without a waver in his voice, before pushing her away and down on her knees again. “Hard.”

 

Rose couldn't help the whimper that left her mouth as she felt him slip behind her and press his calloused hand in the small of her back to make her bend before him. She realized there would be no soft kisses, no caresses, no sweet words whispered in her ears this time. But she didn’t mind. Not that she had expected any of them anyway.

 

She gasped when two of his fingers slid inside her without any preamble and the pad of his thumb found her clit to rub it in tight and broad circles - and she found out that her arousal wasn’t a produce of her imagination. The slick sound his fingers made as they penetrated her, hard and fast, making her knees rub against the carpet, matched the definite wetness she felt painted on the inside of her thighs. Her whimpers echoed his rhythmic grunts and her fingers dug deeper into the soft cotton, hips thrusting back to meet his demanding fingers.

 

“Come,” he ordered in a growl, sounding almost angry she wasn’t responding fast enough to his ministrations. “I want you to be wetter. I want you to give me more than that. Come.”

 

His unusual coarse tongue combined with a both painful and exquisite pinch of his fingers on her clit were enough to meet his hurried demand, and a lingering moan rising in her throat as the pleasure snapped into one uncontrollable wave crashing over her, leaving her body trembling and weak. She barely had enough time to recover and clear the fog of her mind that he already was over her. She yelped when the Doctor rolled a strong arm around her waist and gave it a sharp pull, making her fall on her forearms. A second later, he was thrusting inside her to the hilt with a loud groan of satisfaction that she answered with a whimper of pain when that made her naked knees drag on the carpet and burn her skin.

 

Either he didn't notice, or didn’t care, but he didn’t stop. He started a wild and powerful back and forth, his hips slamming against her rear in such a punishing pace that the new music of his low grunts and her high-pitched moans couldn’t quite follow the loud slap of skin against skin. Rose would have never thought the Doctor to be capable of losing himself like this - she had always thought him to be weirdly conventional, for an alien at least, when it came to bedroom activities - but there was the proof he could be a dominating and ferocious sex beast. She just hoped it wasn’t a consequence of the aphrodisiac and that he’d grant her a repeat performance later, because despite the twinges of pain that came when he dug his fingers into her hips hard enough to leave bruises and cut the soft skin in the curve of the small of her back with his nails as he pressed her further down, she was loving all of this. No need to take decisions, no need to think, no need to make sure he was enjoying himself. A bit of rough, that she liked, all of him, that she loved. It was easy to let go. It was exhilarating to just feel and give in to the consuming pleasure he was giving her. Because her whole body had fallen prey to the Doctor's, and his hard length relentlessly thrusting into her was awakening sensations she’d never experienced before.

 

And suddenly she couldn't think anymore. The Doctor grabbed a fistful of her blond locks and pulled on it to reveal the side of her neck, just as he bent over her to drag his teeth on the newly exposed skin and suck it hard into his mouth.

 

“Mine,” the Doctor growled, his other hand slipping under her to knead a breast and tease her nipple. “All mine.”

“Yes,” Rose yelped - both as an agreement and an expression of intense pleasure when another wave of heat ran through her at the realization that he was about to come.

“So wet. So tight. Fuck, oh fuck.”

 

Rose gasped in delight when he surprisingly managed to penetrate her deeper, harder, faster, hitting spots she wasn’t even aware existed that sent her arousal swirling in her loins and made her clit throb in unison. She was close, so very close, but her impending orgasm remained just out of reach when the Doctor’s rhythm faltered and came to an abrupt stop, his hips slamming hard against her bum one last time, his shout accompanying the feeling of his cock twitching inside her and his seed, colder than her own fluids, jetting inside her for long seconds before he collapsed atop of her.

 

Rose couldn't help the disappointed sigh that flew from her lips when she realized she had no way to fan the cooling coals of her desire, the Doctor's weight much too heavy preventing her from moving her arms, let alone a hand. She was quite certain it would have been an orgasm worth a hundred others. Shame.

 

Now the only thing she could feel was the exhaustion in her limbs, the thirst groping its way up her throat and making her mouth drier than cotton, the stifling heat of the air surrounding them. If the Doctor was heavy indeed, it was nothing compared to the lead her muscles seemed to have turned into.

 

She offered a grateful kiss on his right arm when he finally rose on his hands and lifted his chest up from her back, but that movement helped her register the fact that he was still hard inside her, filling her completely, pulsing almost imperceptibly. His breathing was ragged, and she could hear it get stuck in his throat at each heavy puff he blew through his nose.

 

“You didn’t come,” he muttered angrily, his knuckles turning white as his fingers clenched around the carpet.

“Sorry,” Rose whispered, thinking he was furious at her.

“No, no no no,” he shook his head vehemently. “Doesn’t work like that. It… You… I need…I need you to.”

 

Rose winced when he slipped out of her without warning and was forced to accompany him as he rose to his feet. One look down was enough to see that he was still painfully hard, his red, glistening cock throbbing in unison with the heartbeat she could see pulsing in the swollen carotide on his neck. He crossed the distance that separated them with one decided stride and pulled her flush against him, his hands finding their way to her arse cheeks while his lips and teeth latched on that one soft spot behind her ear, the spot that made her knees buckle and her mouth hang open in a soundless cry of ecstasy.

 

“Yes,” he groaned against her skin, sucking it hard into his mouth and trailing his tongue against it as if he wanted to drink it. “So good. So much potency. Too much.”

 

Rose gasped when his lips let go of their prize with a loud wet pop and pushed her towards the small table. He threw everything away with a broad swipe of his arm and before she could fully realize what was happening, she was sitting on the edge of the table, legs hooked around his shoulders, his tongue lapping at her clit and two of his fingers plunging inside her dripping opening. It didn’t take long for her to end up trembling like a small leave in a storm, his talented organ blowing on the not quite dead coals of the orgasm she’d been denied. If he wanted to get her worked up, that was definitely the right way to do it.

 

She moaned, loud and raucous, her hands clenched around spikes of his wild mane, her heel dug deep into his shoulder blades, her hips rose from the table, and it seemed that that was his cue. He interlocked the crook of his arms with the dip behind her knees and gave a sharp pull until she was half-hanging in the air, her fingers struggling to find purchase on the surface made slippery with her sweaty hands. She looked into his black eyes and saw all the lust shining in their depth, but it was a lust that couldn’t quite hide the desperation that transpired through his knitted eyebrows and the grimace contorting his features.

 

“I need… I need you,” he stuttered, apparently unable to formulate a coherent sentence. “Same time…. Come… With me.”

“Yes,” Rose groaned in agreement, eyes fluttering shut when the tip of his cock slipped between her folds and pressed deliciously against her clit. “Do it. Please, do it.”

 

She didn’t need to beg for it. He thrusted inside her with a guttural moan, so deep the table only stood on two legs for a moment, pearls of sweat rolling down his nose to fall and crash on her face. There was no slow building up, no passionate love-making, just raw sex, hard and quick, an urgent desire, a consuming need to find the blessed relief that would put an end to the torture he was going through. His nails scratched their way down her thigh and though it did hurt, it also made her insides flare up in delightful arousal. Her walls clenched around him and he had to bite down on his lip to keep a cry in, his body leaning over hers and his head dropping in the crook of her shoulder.

 

Rose had never felt so close to him than in this moment. His lean, sweaty chest rubbing against hers, the coarse smattering of hair teasing her nipples. His abdomen, heaving against hers at each sharp intake of air he gulped down. His pelvis, pressing hard and low enough to stimulate her clit at each thrust. It was all so erotic and it all felt so good that she had to pray he was as close as she was.

 

“Doctor,” she warned in a moan, giving the small of his back a slap.

“Close,” he panted, grinding his hips against her, relentlessly slamming into her as his mouth found the side of her neck again. “So close. Fuck, fuck. Fucking come, Rose. Now.”

 

Rose didn’t need to be asked twice, the simple order enough to make the pent-up sexual tension she’d been accumulating for torturously long minutes explode into fireworks. The sound of her shout as her walls clenched and fluttered around him was only matched by the equal loudness of his cursing and groaning as his hips rutted against her, his cock buried deep inside her twitched and throbbed in the same, crazed rhythm. His fist slammed against the table once, twice, and a weird gurgle escaped his lips as his powerful orgasm dwindled down, before he stopped moving altogether and a weird, awkward silence settled down - and it was only then that Rose realised just how loud the whole experience had been, the ghost sounds of his cries, of slapping skin, of laboured breath and heavy groans still ringing in her ears.

 

“Oh, fuck me,” the Doctor whimpered as he eventually collapsed on top of her, hiding his face in the crook of her shoulder.

“I don’t think I can,” she breathed out with a small chuckle, her eyes starting to close on their own.

 

The force of her orgasm had completely drained what little was left of her energy. Not to mention the still stifling heat made even more unbearable with the fire of their activities and the thirst that was starting to make her so dizzy she thought the table was wobbling under her and the tent was spinning at a hundred miles per hour. She barely winced when his now - thank the Gods - soft appendage slipped out of her, barely noticed his hand that was gently cupping her jaw, barely heard the whisper of apology he breathed into her ear, barely felt the tentative kiss he dropped on her cheek. A few seconds and she was out.

 

\----

  


A faint smell of lavender. A comfortable warmth. A relaxing sound of rippling water. Those were the first things Rose became conscious of as she slowly emerged from what must have been the deepest sleep she’d ever experienced. A soft sigh flew past her lips as her eyes fluttered open and a dim light greeted her. She blinked a few times to adjust to the new brightness and eventually fully got back to her senses.

 

“Hello,” she smiled to the Doctor who was sitting on the edge of the tub she was deeply nestled into.

 

He didn’t answer, looking down and offering a shrug instead. She watched him for a moment. The sleeves of his light blue shirt were rolled up to his elbows, his forearms shining with a sheen of lather and water. His hands were busy with her right knee, one gently cradling the crook of it while the other massaged the hurt, burnt and bruised skin with feathery touches. A pleasant wave of relief coursed through her when the skin healed under his careful fingers, and it was then that she realized how sore she was - and remembered what had happened. Why he wouldn’t look at her. Why shame painted his features and puppeteered each of his movements. She couldn’t stand the idea of him blaming himself for it. And she wouldn’t.

 

She sat upright in the bath and took his hand, twining her fingers with his. Her other hand reached to cup his tensed jaw and the pad of her thumb brushed against his cheekbone in a vain attempt to make him look at her.

 

“It’s alright, Doctor,” she whispered soothingly - which only made him huff and shook his head in defeat. “Really, I’m fine, yeah?”

“ _Fine_ ,” he chuckled with a bitterness so heavy she could almost feel it drip from the word, thick as honey.

“Yes, fine,” she repeated, sliding on the bottom of the tub to get closer to him.

“You’re not,” he glared at her, though it was obvious his anger was not aimed at her. “I hurt you. Look at you Rose. Look at your body. I did this.”

“Okay,” she simply answered, pushing herself up her feet and grabbing the nearest towel. “Come with me.”

 

The Doctor looked a bit bewildered, unable to move, so she took his hand and had him follow her to the bedroom. She made a quick job of drying herself off and threw the towel in a corner of the room, unashamed to stand in all her naked glory in front of him.

 

“Take your clothes off,” she ordered.

“Rose…”

“Tut, tut,” she interrupted, pressing her index over her lips. “Just do it.”

 

And so the Doctor slowly unbuttoned his shirt, not bothering to conceal the annoyed sigh he blew through his nose. Rose could see he was reluctant to do it and that he obviously had no idea where she wanted to go with this, but she gave an encouraging smile when he shed his last article of clothing with a mutter of discontent. He froze when she invaded his personal space, her hands finding their way to each side of his face, lips planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose.

 

“Let’s see,” she whispered, her fingertips lightly tracing the curves, dips and contours of his face until her thumb stopped on his bottom lip. “Oh my, look at what I did to your mouth.”

 

The Doctor swallowed hard when her tongue replaced her finger on the hurt flesh, giving it a quick lick before kissing it gently. Her mouth then hovered to the side and stopped right above the scratch he knew her teeth had left on his jaw. She stared at him through her thick eyelashes, eyes full of a love he didn’t want to see and a mischievousness he found nothing less than inappropriate. He understood where she wanted to lead him, what she wanted to show him, how she wanted him to realize that she was fine indeed. He understood, but he wouldn’t accept any of this. He wouldn’t…

 

“That’s quite a love bite, hm?” Rose said softly as her finger circled the purple bruise covering the side of his neck.

“This isn’t necessary, Rose,” the Doctor muttered.

 

And with this sentence, Rose knew that what she was doing was working. His confidence was crumbling, his conviction giving way to hesitation. She took advantage of the situation to take his fingers and splay them on the side of her own neck, where she was sure the same kind of bruise decorated her pale skin given how it tingled and felt hotter than the flesh surrounding it.

 

“I think I’ve got the same here, haven’t I?” she asked, feeling his fingertips strain not to put too much pressure on the bruise. “That makes us even, then.”

 

The Doctor theatrically lifted his eyes up to the ceiling when she granted him a warm smile, before she slipped behind him and circled his waist with her arms. Her lips pressed on the prominent cervical vertebrae at the base of his neck and trailed a path to his left shoulder blade, where her nails had unconsciously grazed shallow tracks, still deep enough for the skin to burn under her mouth and shine with an angry red hue. She felt his shudder as she ran her hands up his torso and brushed against his nipples, just as her mouth followed the red marks down his spine and settled on the small of his back, where more nail scratches adorned his skin.

 

“Is it painful?” she murmured against his skin.

“No,” he breathed out, and Rose noticed that his breath was short, laboured and… Aroused?

 

Her fingertips slid down his pectorals, his abdomen, and her thumbs nestled in the dip of his hipbones as she made him turn around. She stood before him, looked up to his eyes that didn’t want to meet hers, and a thought suddenly struck her.

 

“Tell me, Doctor,” she started in a whisper, a shot of heat running through her loins at the simple idea that she might be right. “Being a fast-healing Time Lord and everything... Shouldn’t these scratches be gone by now?”

 

When his face immediately burnt with a furious blush and he pinched his lips so hard together they were reduced to a thin line, she realized that she’d been right. That didn’t help with the warmth pooling in her belly. It was a totally different kind of warmth than the one she’d experienced a few hours ago - one filled with passion and adoration for this man, one that made her stomach bubble with love and affection.

 

“You want them,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “Just as much as I want mine. They don’t hurt. Mine don’t either.”

 

Rose didn’t know exactly what went through his head in that moment, but she welcomed his lips on hers with a soft sigh, and his light touch on her hips had never felt more careful and loving. He kissed her, gently, delicately, for a second or an hour, she couldn’t be sure, but she was certain it came to an end too fast. He pressed his forehead against hers and his eyes weren’t afraid to meet hers anymore. They bore through her with a sparkling intensity as his fingers gently cupped her face.

 

“Let me make love to you,” his whisper both desperate and hopeful. “Let me show you how much I love you. Please, let me love you.”

“Only if you let me love you too,” she answered in a breath.

 

He seemed to understand the underlying desire she wanted to express through those words, and his lips brushed against the bruise on her neck as he led her towards the bed.

 

* * *

 


End file.
